


1991

by Arrestzelle



Category: Rammstein
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Rammstein Era, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 00:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20016955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: Two years after the Berlin Wall had fallen, Schneider and Ollie discover they have mutual feelings for one another.





	1991

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chachamaruchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chachamaruchan/gifts).



> This is a (very) belated birthday gift for Cha!!! Thank you for your patience, and I hope you love it, because it was written just for you!! Happy birthday, and I love you! ♡
> 
> At this time, Ollie, Schneider, and Richard lived together, apparently, so Richard is sprinkled in here and there!! Also, I feel like not many people know that [Ollie actually had a full head of hair](https://66.media.tumblr.com/247808c6cc9905d7c86dc4958b8929e3/tumblr_pvda0wSoJn1wffjmmo1_400.jpg) at one point, which is when this fic takes place.

The sun is beginning to peer beyond the horizon. It’s five in the morning. They’ve been sitting out here, drinking, laughing, talking for the last two hours. A group of six. Four of which he does not know very well, or he simply doesn’t care for. He had been woken up at three in the morning by none other than Schneider, who had peeked into his bedroom and said they’re heading out to watch the sunrise with some beer, and he’s welcome to join. How could he have said no, when invited by Schneider? How often does _Schneider_ invite other people?

So, he had jumped up, gotten dressed, grabbed two blankets, and followed him out. Now, he sits on grass damp with dew, wrapped up in those same two blankets. Schneider is to his left. The other four have been chatting and screwing around, with Schneider occasionally chiming in. Ollie is naturally not the most talkative person, especially when he’s tired. All of his energy has gone towards focusing on Schneider. He sneaks glances towards him throughout the evening which bleeds into the morning, admiring his profile, his broad hands, his long legs, his wild hair.

Schneider giggles the more he drinks. He engages in the conversation. He often looks at Ollie with glassy eyes, a goofy smile on his face. It’s a Schneider unlike the typical he sees. Perhaps a truer version of him. One which Ollie often yearns to see. Glimpses of a broad grin. Strings of nonsensical sentences seldom heard outside of this inebriated state. He nudges Ollie often, attempting to garner a verbal response. When he laughs, he knocks back into Ollie—his curls tickling Ollie’s face and neck, his body heavy and warm against his own—before sitting up again, and Ollie soaks it up like a sponge. A pathetic sponge. He stares at Schneider, and pretends to care about the current conversation, but it goes in one ear and right out the other.

The only illumination comes from the moon and the occasional flick of a lighter, though the sky is soon penetrated by the rising sun. It bathes the black in something warmer. Ollie watches it emerge beyond the horizon. The chatting of the group is beginning to aggravate him. He wants to enjoy this moment in total serenity. As much as he doesn’t like leaving Schneider’s side when he has the chance to be there, he rises from the grass, bundles the blankets tighter around himself, and walks off with hardly an explanation.

“Ollie! Where are you going?!” one of them laughs. Ollie flatly replies in a raised voice as he continues walking, “Over here.”

They don’t complain. He crosses the field of grass silently, kicking weeds and brush out of the way. He continues walking until he can’t hear them anymore. Then he takes a seat on the grass, fixes his gaze on the horizon again. He clutches his blankets tightly, blinking away the sudden exhaustion that weighs on him. He thinks distantly about going back home to bed. But then he thinks of Schneider. Schneider specifically invited him… Should he really have abandoned him like that?

He hears the rustling of grass. He glances over his shoulder to see said man approaching with his hands in the pocket of his olive green hoodie, head ducked to watch where he’s stepping. His explosion of hair shrouds his face from Ollie, until he looks up. They meet eyes; Schneider gives him another drunken, lopsided smile.

“Didn’t want you to get lonely,” Schneider explains, slightly slurred. He flops down beside him in the grass and then settles his stare upon the rising sun, knees raised with his arms circled around them, one hand gripping a wrist. Ollie contemplates what to say. Gazing at his profile, he glances over his broad nose, his thin lips, his flushed cheekbones, his sharp jawline, his eyelashes. He’s quite beautiful for a man, really. Ollie looks away, flustered. He realizes he hadn’t said anything yet. He speaks in a murmur.

“Wouldn’t you prefer being with the people that are exciting?”

Schneider brings his eyes from the handsome view to Ollie. He arches a brow.

“What makes you think I need excitement? I don’t need to be entertained.”

Ollie presses his lips together. He drops his gaze to his feet—he’s wearing his beat up sneakers. He toes at the grass around them and shrugs. Schneider, surprising the other man, knocks his shoulder to Ollie’s and says with amusement, “You know, I don’t find you boring, if that’s what you’re afraid of. You’re you. I wouldn’t expect anything more or less.”

Fixing his gaze on the other man, Ollie finds himself surprised. Schneider meets his eyes and offers the faintest smile. Ollie grows warm not only in the face, but in his heart. He smiles in return and nods. He leans back against his shoulder. Schneider huffs a laugh and releases his wrist to reach up and ruffle Ollie’s wild hair. Then he retracts his touch and makes a face.

“You need to wash your hair, Riedel. My hand is practically wet with oil.”

“You know how much I hate washing with cold water,” Ollie remark, dryly. Schneider hums in agreement and then chuckles.

“Would it be more tolerable if I washed your hair for you?”

Schneider murmurs this so quietly, Ollie barely catches it. Schneider then clears his throat before rising with a grunt and a stretch of his arms. Stunned, Ollie looks up at him with raised eyebrows. Did he even hear him right? Schneider spins on his heel and looks down at him with a vague shape of a smile. His mane of hair surrounds his handsome, sharply-angled face like a halo. He slides his hands into his hoodie pocket.

“I’m kidding. Although, if it makes you jump with joy, I’ll do it. Anyways, let’s go on a walk. My legs are stiff from sitting for hours.”

Ollie opens his mouth, heat rushing up into his face again, and then closes it. He nods. Schneider holds out a hand. Ollie stares at it, heart leaping. He reaches out to slowly slide his hand into Schneider’s. Their fingers lock together, and then Schneider is pulling him up onto his feet—effortlessly so.

* * *

Seated on one of the dining table chairs, Ollie is balancing his scuffed up bass in his lap, long, slim fingers cradling the fretboard, four nimble fingertips stroking the strings. He’s bent over it as if in prayer, head bowed as he watches his fingers move. The low rumble of the bass fills the apartment, his amp turned quiet for the sake of others. He’s so focused on playing a piece that he’s been working on for weeks, enveloped in his own world of music, he’s unaware of Schneider in the kitchen. There’s the distant sound of a cupboard opening, the clack of a mug being set down, the rustling of plastic. It’s overwhelmed by the sound of the bass, subconsciously ignored by Ollie.

Ollie continues playing, fingers roaming across the strings in a graceful dance, fingertips plucking effortlessly, filling the living room with sound. He only stops when he becomes familiar with a trickier string of notes, until he’s no longer stumbling. He then grabs the paper he’s been scribbling on and takes hold of his pen to write something down. That’s when he hears the sound of the coffee machine bubbling and hissing. He pauses, looks over. He sees Schneider leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his blue eyes trained on him. A towel is draped over his head—he’s wearing a navy blue t-shirt and faded jeans. He obviously just came out of the shower. Schneider speaks lowly once he has his attention.

“Did you see Richard? Any idea where he went off to?”

“He left this morning,” Ollie begins, appreciatively eying up his muscular form, as well as his broad hands resting over his biceps, his fitted shirt which is damp in some spots. “Around eight. Picking up his bike from the shop.”

“That early? Why?”

“I think he said he was going to stop by some girl’s place. I don’t know. I don’t really care.”

Schneider nods. He smiles faintly.

“Fair enough.”

Ollie watches the other man for a moment longer, before refocusing on his bass. He begins toying with the strings again, low notes flowing from his fingertips. Schneider speaks up again.

“You want coffee?”

“No,” Ollie says, head bowed and eyes tracking his fingers, “Thanks.”

Schneider makes no response. The bubbling of the coffee maker joins Ollie’s playing. Ollie hears the sound of Schneider’s footsteps. Ollie stops playing when he enters the dining area, taking a seat on one of the creaky dining chairs. Ollie casts a brief glance over his shoulder. He sees Schneider straddling a chair, arms folded atop the backrest, his chin against his forearms. The towel is now draped around his shoulders. His long, wavy locks are wet and messy. His vibrant blue eyes are lidded, trained on him.

“What?” Ollie says, blushing now. Schneider shrugs.

“Keep playing. I just want to be closer to the amp.”

“Okay.”

Ollie looks away, furrowing his brow. Slightly flustered, he has to regain his composure before mentally recalling the notes. Then he repositions his hands, checks his fingers on the fretboard, and begins to play. He plucks at the strings with a certain gracefulness and confidence. The bass line vibrates throughout them. Ollie closes his eyes. He zeroes his focus on the positioning of his fingers, the tempo, the note that comes after the next. The deep rumbling sound penetrates throughout him, piercing his heart. He can feel it throughout his body.

It doesn’t last long. He goes over the melody thrice before stopping. He opens his eyes and peeks over at the other man. Schneider is smiling. A lovely sight that has Ollie staring. Schneider sits back and grabs the towel to begin winding it up.

“You play some mean bass, Riedel,” he says simply, a slight grin pulling at his lips, “You’ll one day be someone renowned. I know it.”

He then rises from the chair with a creak. Perfectly timed, the coffee machine gurgles with finality and then Schneider is approaching to pour himself a mug. Red in the face, Ollie watches him go yearningly, heart racing away in his chest.

* * *

It’s pouring outside. People race home on foot and by bike, while Ollie casually strolls with his hands in his hoodie pocket. He doesn’t care. He’s already getting quite soaked, his hair flattened to his cheeks and neck. He watches the fat droplets beat against the ground, against the cars that pass, the buildings he crosses. Clouds hang darkly and ominously above him, sneering down at him. Somehow, they seem to release increasingly violent torrents of rain, until Ollie is beginning to wonder if, perhaps, he should be more concerned. Lightning strikes. He jumps.

How far is he from their place?

Five more minutes of walking in silence, punctuated by the drumming of rain and the rumbling of thunder, and then he recognizes a street sign. All he wanted to do is go to the library, and instead he was rewarded with this. So much for seeking education. He smiles to himself at that thought.

Looking like a drowned cat, he eventually steps through the entrance of the apartment building. Each footstep leaves behind a puddle. He drags his way up the three flights of stairs, his shoes squelching. At their door, he then removes his keys from his jeans. Distantly, he hears the opening of the door down below, punctuated by the sound of the rain. Loud, wet footsteps begin pounding up the staircase. Shit.

He hates dealing with strangers. He quickly unlocks the door and shoves inside. He closes the door, locks it, and sighs. As he leans over to untie his waterlogged shoes and pull them off, he hears the boisterous footsteps ascending the steps, the wet slap of water against flooring. It stops right at his floor. Then he hears the jingle of keys. Ollie pauses—the sound of a key sliding into a lock pierces the silence. Then the door is unlocked and opened.

He looks up to see Schneider standing there, looking laughably similar to himself. His wavy locks are plastered to his face, his clothing soaked. Schneider appears just as surprised as Ollie to find him at the entrance. His blue eyes are wide, his cheeks flushed, mouth slightly upturned into a grin. It fades away to something more passive.

“Good timing,” Ollie muses quietly. He removes his last shoe and then steps out of the way for Schneider to do the same.

“I call dibs on the shower,” Schneider breathlessly claims as he rips off his boots. Ollie frowns. He scrapes his wet hair from his face and huffily remarks, “Schneider, I was going to shower. I got here first.”

After he says this, he feels remarkably childish. Schneider glances up at him with raised eyebrows and a slight grin. He begins pulling off his soaked sweater, which is suctioned to his lean torso. He rips it off of himself, his hair wilder. Ollie’s eyes naturally swim down, admiring his flat chest, his fit stomach. He has the cutest nipples, Ollie thinks, and then immediately is horrified with himself. He looks away, blushing. Schneider speaks then, saying with a hint of amusement in his smooth voice, “Oh, yeah? Well, I would love to have hot water in the next half hour, and you know how shitty this place’s water heater is.”

Ollie crosses his arms, defensively. He may have a ridiculous crush on this man, but Ollie is chilled to the bone, and stubborn about his shower. He’s already shivering where he stands, still dressed in his wet clothing, annoyingly so. He eyes Schneider past his dripping fringe, displeased. Schneider begins walking towards the bathroom.

“Schneider,” Ollie groans, turning to him.

“Hold on,” Schneider says, crossing the small living room to open the bathroom door, “I have a solution.”

Ollie reluctantly follows him in. He stands there with crossed arms, frowning, watching as Schneider pushes aside the shower curtain and reaches out to turn on the faucet. He activates the shower, and then water begins to drum against the tub. Ollie is uncertain what he plans to do. Schneider then turns to Ollie and crosses his arms across his naked chest. He speaks with a level expression.

“Let’s share it. Before you say anything: we’re friends. That’s it. I feel like that’s the most reasonable solution. Unless you want to wait thirty minutes for the hot water to come back? It’s up to you.”

Blinking, Ollie has to first absorb this suggestion, digest it, and then process it. When it settles, his eyebrows meet his hairline and heat rushes into his face.

“Are you serious? We—I. I mean. Sure. I guess.”

“Have you never showered with a friend before?” Schneider asks, tilting his head with a cocked brow. Ollie gawks at him. Is he implying _he has?_ With whom? Schneider, of all people, sharing a shower with someone else. Sure.

Ollie is speechless. Schneider shrugs.

“Well, I’m getting in. Come in if you want. I don’t care.”

This is unfair. Ollie clenches his teeth, hands in fists, watching as Schneider begins unbuttoning his jeans. Ollie steps back, giving him more room, his back meeting the doorframe. Shit. He stares, unable to look away, as the other man steps out of his jeans. Schneider isn’t the boldest man in the world, so he first turns his back to Ollie before stepping out of his boxers. Ollie hasn’t seen him naked before. As big as nudity was in the East, Schneider hadn’t exactly run around with his dick out. Neither has Ollie, for that matter.

Maybe that’s why the concept of showering together leaves Schneider unfazed—the lackluster attitude revolving around nudity. Especially with the crowd Schneider hung out with. Maybe he’s more open to nudity than Ollie expected. Sharing a close space with someone else, lacking clothes… Ollie swallows hard. He watches with a furrowed brow and burning cheeks as Schneider climbs into the shower and disappears behind the curtain. He lets out a groan of relief and satisfaction, bathed in hot water. Ollie lets out a shuddering exhale.

He’s embarrassed with himself for thinking Schneider has the nicest ass. Why is he so grossly objectifying of one of his closest friends?

He hesitates for a minute. He brings his hand up to his face, wipes it down over his mouth and jaw, hanging his head. He contemplates what Schneider offered. Like he said, they’re just friends, who happen to be extremely wet and cold from the downpour. With a flat that has shitty water heating. It’s just convenient, nothing else.

Ollie slowly pulls off his hoodie, and then struggles to peel off the shirt underneath. Goosebumps ripple across his skin. He then steps out of his jeans and briefs. He looks down at himself. He’s skinny, and lean. His dick isn’t at its peak, evidently, but obviously that is because of the cold. It’s not like Schneider would be staring at him there.

Heart pounding, Ollie shuffles his way closer to the shower curtain. He stares at it, wide-eyed, picturing Schneider on the other side. He hears his footsteps, hears him adjust the heat with a squeak of the handle.

“Ollie?” Schneider calls. Ollie freezes. He jumps when the curtain pulls back just enough for Schneider to look out. They meet eyes, and then Schneider smiles very faintly, so faintly only Ollie can see it merely due to how close they are. And they are very close. Ollie is locked in the chasm of Schneider’s gorgeous eyes. He feels like Schneider is Medusa, and he his victim. He’s frozen.

“Come on,” Schneider prods, pulling the curtain open. Ollie’s tongue is complete lead. He nods a little. He knows he’s blushing up to his ears, he can feel it. He just hopes Schneider can’t tell. He steps in. Schneider closes the curtain behind him. Ollie’s heart is wildly racing in his chest. He looks over towards Schneider. His long locks are tucked behind his ears, plastered to his head from the shower water. He is flushed in places, a kind look in his eyes, though there is no smile on his face. He looks absolutely beautiful.

Then the heat of the water distracts Ollie. It feels so damn good, beating against his shivering body. He closes his eyes, tips his head back into it. Schneider laughs.

“I know you wouldn’t want to wait another half hour for this,” he muses. Ollie nods a little. He could never forget that Schneider is standing not even a foot from him, utterly naked, but he keeps his eyes closed, just so he won’t have to look, and subsequently embarrass himself because of it. Ollie is honestly on the verge of shitting himself because of how overwhelmed and scared he is. He doesn’t want to get a boner. He doesn’t want Schneider to know.

He has to move to let Schneider have some hot water, though. He opens his eyes, briefly meets Schneider’s gaze, and then nervously looks away, to the side. He steps back, and Schneider quietly crosses him to take the heat. Their legs brush together—this shower is not big enough for both of them. Ollie chokes. His eyes naturally flick over to hungrily swim over Schneider’s naked body. He has a broad back, but slim hips. He’s still retained some skinniness from the East, but muscle is steadily gaining up. His hands are big, his forearms wiry with a few noticeable veins, his calves thickened with strength. His ass is tight with muscle, but still pleasantly round. Shit. He’s gorgeous. Ollie lets out a breath and struggles to tear his gaze away. He stares at his feet.

“If it’s too strange, you can leave if you want,” Schneider murmurs. His rumbling voice fills the confined area so well, Ollie flinches because it sounds like he’s almost whispering in his ear. Embarrassed by his reaction, Ollie shakes his head and stutters, “N-No, it’s. It’s fine. I’ve just—Er, I’ve never done this before.”

God damnit. He stammers so much when he’s nervous, and he hates it.

“No? Not even with a woman?”

Ollie huffs a laugh. He replies sardonically, in a soft voice, crossing his arms as a self-comforting gesture.

“A woman. Sure.”

“…A man?”

Ollie looks up at him, mildly horrified. Schneider is gazing at him with cool eyes, hands raised to run his fingers through his curling locks, letting the hot water rush through them. Ollie’s gaze briefly flickers down, admiring the visual of the shower water traversing down his body. When he catches a peek of his lower belly and the dark hair that sat below it, Ollie shoots his gaze back up to Schneider’s. He swallows hard, opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He’s so pathetic. Ollie is embarrassed.

“I’m teasing you,” Schneider says with a slight smirk. He then turns away, giving Ollie a reprieve. Ollie lets out a deep exhale. He watches as Schneider rubs a bar of soap between his broad hands, before rubbing the suds over his face. Ollie bites his lip. He seldom gets to witness this side of Schneider’s routine. Cleaning himself. Grooming himself.

Ollie so dearly wants to reach out and stroke his hands over Schneider’s broad back. He wants to feel the shifting muscles. He wants to touch his skin. Heat is swimming in Ollie’s lower belly. With Schneider turned away, Ollie admires his ass and long, muscular legs. God, how perfect can one man be?

The urge to roam his hands up from his slim hips, across his sides, to ultimately reach around and grab his cock prods at Ollie. Can he stop being such a horny child for one second?

No, his body mocks, as it begins to give him an erection. Fuck. Ollie pulls back the shower curtain and steps out.

“You’re done already?” Schneider calls, confusion in his voice. Ollie is beyond overwhelmed and flustered. He grabs a towel, presses his face into it. He wants to suffocate himself. He keeps his back to the shower, hiding his developing hard-on. Schneider is silent, waiting for a response.

“Yeah. I’m warm now,” Ollie says, voice kept even, “I’m going to go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, Schneider.”

“Uh, sure. Goodnight.”

Ollie escapes like a coward, after throwing his soaked clothing in the laundry hamper.

* * *

Two days later, Ollie finds himself alone in the flat. Richard is with his girlfriend, and Schneider is out with his band. He manages to keep himself busy by cleaning, watching TV, and idly playing on his bass. He goes on a walk, comes back to the flat, and deems himself sufficiently bored. At times like these, he typically goes out to the library or the arcade, but he doesn’t feel like leaving the house for too long, or walking lengths. So, instead, he decides to be invasive and peek into Schneider’s bedroom.

As he glances over his unmade bed, his cluttered nightstand, his desk, Ollie thinks back on the last time Schneider had a woman over. Probably four months? Perhaps Schneider just screws elsewhere now. Ollie pushes away the thought, for it’s too sour for his taste. He eyes up the mess of laundry on the floor. They should all do their laundry, apparently, because Ollie’s own laundry hamper is overflowing. If it wouldn’t be so telling, Ollie would happily clean up Schneider’s room, but he knows Schneider would be pissed. He values his privacy. Which is just why Ollie feels so guilty as he slips inside and quietly pads over to his desk.

He picks up the books he finds, reads the titles.

Why does Schneider have the most atrocious taste in books? They’re all boring autobiographies.

He puts them down, and then rests his hand on the backrest of his desk chair. He looks over his room again, wonders what he does when he’s cooped up in here. It’s not like he could drag his drum set in here. There’s not enough room. There is one little drum in the corner, though. And a set of drumsticks crossed atop it. Ollie has seen him practicing spinning them around in his fingers. Maybe that’s what he does for hours on end. Spin his damn drumsticks. Ollie smiles to himself at the thought.

His eyes focus on the white jacket with ‘ARMY’ written across the front in bold, black lettering. The one Schneider always wears. Ollie walks over and grabs it. He squeezes it in his hands. It’s soft. Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he brings it up to his face and breathes in.

It smells just like him. Ollie’s eyes roll shut. He feels himself drowning in comfort, in adoration for the other man. He could smell him forever. He inhales again. He wants to know what it’s like hugging him, embracing him, pressing his nose to his hair, breathing him in that way. He wants to know how his warm skin feels under his touch. How it feels holding his face in his hands, pulling him in for a kiss. Ollie actually groans into the jacket, pained by how much he _wants him._

Why is he so disgusting? Ollie hates wanting him like this. He hates how desperate he’s become. He clutches the jacket to himself, biting his lip. He can’t leave without it. He always wants to have Schneider with him. But it’s his favorite jacket. Would Schneider even notice?

Emboldened but ashamed, Ollie leaves his room, making sure the door is as open as it had been before he invaded.

Before he knows it, he ends up in his own bed, bedroom door locked, with Schneider’s jacket tucked under his nose. Eyes closed, he inhales his scent, yearning for him. He can’t stop himself from picturing the presence of the man himself. He thinks of Schneider being on top of him, right now. Pushing apart his legs, situating himself between them.

Ollie is getting hard in his pants.

He envisions Schneider grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the bed. Looking down at him with those piercing blue eyes, a faint smile on those pretty thin lips, his wavy hair shrouding his face. He imagines Schneider with a raging erection, trapped under layers of clothing—but Ollie can see it so easily. In his fantasy, Schneider begins grinding against him, his clothed dick against Ollie’s, snarling how much he wants to fuck him until he can’t walk straight anymore. Ollie clutches the jacket in a white-knuckled fist, eyes clenched shut.

With every motion from lowering his hand to undoing his jeans, to withdrawing his hard dick, Ollie hates himself. He begins stroking at himself, slim fingers gripping his flushed cock desperately. Inhaling Schneider’s intoxicating scent, he plunges deeper into the fantasy. Schneider pushing into him, with no barriers, and keeping him pinned to the bed as he begins rocking into him. Praising him, kissing over his skin, snapping his hips against him, fucking him harder and faster, until he’s grunting Ollie’s name and coming deep inside of him. At the precipice of his fantasy, Ollie’s thoughts scatter, his mind reducing to static. He groans into Schneider’s jacket as he spills his cum across his heaving belly and shaking fingers.

He’s hit so hard by the power of his orgasm, his vision blanks out. His mouth falls open, legs clenched and trembling, hips jolting, hand losing control as he shakily pulls at himself, easing out the remnants of both his orgasm and his ejaculation.

He lays there, hand lightly resting over his softening cock, breathing heavily. Schneider’s jacket remains over his face. He dozes for a minute, exhausted by the power of his orgasm. He thinks vaguely of Schneider spooning him post-sex, kissing over his neck and stroking a big hand across his front.

When he comes back to himself, he slowly sits up, pulling Schneider’s jacket from his face. He looks down at the mess he created. He’s a little horrified with himself.

He needs to do something about this crush. He can’t just let it fester like this.

* * *

He decides to just spit it out. Rip it from his soul, lay it in front of Schneider for him to scoff at. He knows it will come. The inevitable denial. It always does. Even so, he needs to lay it to rest so he can move on.

The day comes a few days later, after his resolve is rebuilt, his determination peaking. Schneider is sitting in the living room, watching TV with boredom on another rainy day. As usual, Richard is out—either screwing around with Till, or spending time with his girlfriend.

Now, Ollie stands at the doorway to the living room; if it can even be called that. It’s big enough to fit a TV, a couch, a coffee table, and a bookshelf. He peeks in to see Schneider lazily lounging, legs sprawled out across the length of the floor. He’s lethargically feeding grapes into his mouth. Ollie smiles. He’s so cute.

Curling his hands into fists, Ollie bites his lip. Watching him now, he really wonders if this is something he wants to risk destroying. Their friendship. If disgusted enough, Schneider could easily move out and put distance between himself and Ollie. Before he can really doubt himself, Ollie takes in a breath and enters the room, earning a glance from Schneider. His wavy locks frame his slender, handsome face beautifully. He offers him the faintest smile, and then turns back to the TV. Ollie takes a fearful seat beside him. He turns to him, folds his hands together between his thighs, fingers laced. Schneider refocuses his attention on the younger man, arching a brow.

He holds out the bowl of grapes.

“Want some?” he asks, spoken thickly around the mouthful he already has, his amazingly blue eyes searching in Ollie’s. Ollie cracks a grin, baring his teeth in a seldom seen genuine smile. Schneider is such a dork. He then regathers his composure, and shakes his head.

“No. Thanks. I need to talk to you.”

Schneider pauses, looks at him a little more seriously, and then moves to sit up. He leans in to set the bowl of grapes on the coffee table, grabs the remote, mutes the TV. He gives Ollie his undivided attention, nodding, his hands, dampened by the wet grapes, rubbing over his own jean-clad thighs. Ollie takes in a shuddering breath. His stoic expression is crumbling into something meek and his cheeks are red as he speaks, very rushed and very nervously. He blurts it out before his shame and self-preservation could catch up and grip his tongue.

“I have feelings for you. Sorry.”

Shit. Fuck. That last part didn’t—it wasn’t supposed to come out. He shakes his head and continues with nervous gestures of his hands, gullible eyes widening and cheeks darkening further, “Er, I mean, I’m not sorry. I’m just—I wanted you to know.”

His heart is pounding. His skin is bursting with a sweat. He swallows hard, searching in Schneider’s widened eyes. Then Schneider lets out a long breath, seeming to deflate against the couch. He licks his thin lips, breaks his gaze to stare at the bowl of grapes instead. His hands clench together atop his lap, fingers tightly wound. Schneider then laughs a little. Ollie then realizes his face is flushing, too. He hopes he didn’t embarrass him with this.

“Well, that’s—,” he begins, and then laughs again. Ollie’s anxiety is choking him. He can’t breathe, waiting for his response. Schneider shakes his head, brings his hands up to rub them down over his red face, letting out a deep exhale. He speaks, muffled behind his hands.

“I have—Uh… Shit. I think I feel the same.”

He then drops his hands with a slap against his jeans and levels Ollie with a flustered expression. Ollie is speechless. He looks at the other man with shock, his face on fire. Schneider laughs again at his expression. Ollie swallows hard. He blinks rapidly and then murmurs, “Really?”

Schneider nods, grinning now. God, and that grin is so rarely seen, it absolutely swoons Ollie. He stares. Schneider speaks, amusement in his giddy voice.

“Yes, really. I—Wow. I can’t believe this.”

He laughs again, and then cups his broad hands over his red cheeks. Ollie bites his lip to hide his grin. Schneider is too cute sometimes. Schneider looks at him with awe, as if he were something beautiful. Ollie is getting so overwhelmed. He still has his hands locked between his thighs, his shoulders curled in. Schneider must have noticed his tension, because he brings his hands down from his face and asks quietly, “Can I hold you?”

Ollie opens his mouth, gaping. He snaps it shut, looks at the other man with wide eyes and astonishment. He then nods a little, blushing so hard he can feel it in his ears. Schneider’s broad grin returns.

He shifts closer. Ollie sucks in a sharp breath, hands raising from between his thighs. Schneider moves until they’re hip to hip, and his bigger, warmer body is align with Ollie’s. He draws his arm around him and pulls him in. Ollie makes a noise and turns towards him, his leg raising to clumsily knock into Schneider’s. Schneider kisses him on the head among his (thankfully, recently washed) hair. Ollie chokes. He stares, wide-eyed, at nothing in particular as Schneider brings his other arm around him and begins rubbing his hand over his back. What is even happening right now? Is this actually happening?

“I want to kiss you,” Schneider murmurs, laughing weakly, “But I won’t ask for that so soon. I just want to—I don’t know. I’m overwhelmed with so much I want to do and say right now. But I just want you to know, for certain, that I would never try and cross a line you wouldn’t want to take willingly. Okay? I know we just… Expressed our feelings, but I want that to be the first thing that’s made clear.”

Ollie takes in a breath, and turns his nose into Schneider’s hair, closing his eyes and breathing him in. He clutches at him then, his body finally thawing enough for him to reciprocate it. He holds him so tightly, clinging to him, that Schneider actually wheezes and laughs. Ollie buries his face in his neck and takes in a breath.

“I want you to kiss me,” he whispers. “I have for so long.”

Schneider’s hand pauses on his back. Then it begins to descend, stroking over the slope of his spine while he pulls back, just enough to search in Ollie’s flustered gaze. Ollie briefly glances away, overwhelmed, but then forces himself to meet his eyes once more. Schneider smiles at him faintly. He leans in, and Ollie immediately tenses up, anticipating the moment he’s waited for, for so long. Closing his eyes, Ollie waits, but is surprised to feel Schneider gingerly, warmly kiss him on the cheek instead. He opens his eyes, peeks up at Schneider as he leans back. Schneider searches his face again, smiling still.

When he brings his hand back to cup Ollie’s cheek, thumb resting along his jawline, fingers in his hair, Schneider’s face sobers to something calmer and shadowed by desire. Ollie swallows hard, flicking his tongue between his lips, just before Schneider leans in, angling his head, to press their mouths together. Ollie breaks apart and comes together all at once, his hands clutching at Schneider so tightly, he dimly wonders if he could ever let him go.

The feeling of his thin lips against his own is so perfect. Ollie clenches his eyes shut, overcome by his emotion. He feels Schneider’s touch stroke over his back as their mouths gently, slowly purse together. A back and forth kissing that feels more experimental and tender than anything else.

Ollie shifts closer to him, until his legs end up curled over Schneider’s, his arms wound around his neck and shoulders, hands clutching at his shirt. Their lips continue overlapping, moving together in a dance that intensifies into something passionate. Schneider’s soft hair is brushing against his face and jaw, his broad nose pushed against Ollie’s cheek. The close proximity had utterly swept Ollie off his feet, and now he gets to kiss this man, finally. He can barely keep himself coherent as they continue moving their mouths together, a deepening overlapping that becomes open-mouthed and heavy. The feeling of Schneider licking into his mouth is surreal. But so wanted.

Distantly, Ollie wonders if they’re moving too fast. And then it occurs to him he’s completely erect in his jeans, his belly swimming with an intense heat. Schneider seems just happy with making out with him on their couch, and it only serves to turn Ollie on.

Schneider’s hands end up slipping below Ollie’s hoodie to lightly cup around his sides. The touch to his bare skin has Ollie making a slight noise against his mouth, which has him flaring up with embarrassment. He pulls back, sliding one arm from around Schneider’s shoulders to prop back on a hand. He looks at Schneider with wide eyes, his lips wet and kissed, cheeks ruddy. Schneider’s face is equally flushed, his pretty blue eyes searching in Ollie’s, a shadow of concern in them.

“Was that too much?” he asks, voice hushed. He slides his hands out from under Ollie’s hoodie. Ollie shifts and frowns. He takes in a shuddering breath and speaks softly, nervously.

“No—I. I liked it. But. I’m. Too much is happening.”

Schneider smiles faintly.

“We can slow down.”

Ollie bites his lip. He nods. Before the moment could slip from his grasp, Ollie swallows hard and murmurs with shamefully downcast eyes, “I liked it when you held me.”

He can’t meet Schneider’s gaze, absolutely burning in the face. Schneider lets out a huff of a laugh and says quietly, “I can hold you again, Ollie. Come here.”

* * *

Going to bed alone with desire somehow seems more bitter this time. Ollie lays there, thinking about Schneider, about him being literally a room over. He wonders if Schneider is thinking about him. He wonders if Schneider meant what he said. He wonders if this is reality. He replays the kiss, the embracing, the shy smiles on Schneider’s face.

Eventually, he passes out thinking about Schneider’s hands on his skin.

In the morning, Ollie is woken by the creaking of a door frame and softly spoken words. He blearily opens his eyes, sees the sunlight bathing across the floor of his bedroom. He brushes back his haphazard blankets and rubs at his face. He hears Schneider and Richard whispering in the hallway.

He distantly picks up the conversation about talking to Till and Paul about something. And then he hears his name. He blinks slowly and moves to sit up.

By the time he rises from his bed, sleepily pulls on a loose t-shirt, and approaches his bedroom door, the other two had moved into the living room/dining area. Ollie leaves his bedroom while grinding the heel of his hand into his eye. He yawns as he steps into the kitchen.

He spots Schneider and Richard standing by the door. They glance up at his arrival. Schneider smiles at him warmly; Richard lifts a hand in greeting.

“Morning,” they both say, Schneider softer than Richard. Ollie blushes and looks away from Schneider. He nods.

“Morning,” he mumbles, and then grabs a glass from the cabinet. He fills it with water, turns on his heel to face the other two. He watches them wrap up their conversation, with Richard already making his way out the door. Flipping his blonde dreads out of his face, Richard makes some dismissive remark about being home at whatever time, before shutting the door behind himself. Schneider takes a second to digest the exchange, before turning to Ollie, who stares at him from where he stands, slurping at the water.

Then he realizes they’re alone again. Ollie’s heart ramps up, his stomach twisting. He turns away, flustered. Schneider’s footsteps approach. Ollie freezes when Schneider steps up beside him. Ollie sets down the now-empty glass and turns to him. Schneider gazes at him with searching eyes, his lips in an unreadable line. He then smiles faintly.

“Your hair is a mess.”

Ollie takes in a shuddering breath, and then laughs a little. Nodding, he reaches up to thread his fingers through the explosion of hair, and sighs.

“I’ve been thinking about cutting it all off. It’s become annoying.”

Schneider nods.

“I’ll help if you’d want me to.”

“When I decide to do it, definitely.”

Ollie looks up at him with a faint smile. He lowers his hand, places it atop the kitchen counter. Schneider continues watching him with this almost painfully tender gaze. He clears his throat, shifts a little closer.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks softly, his cheeks pink. His blue eyes are so gentle, Ollie can’t help but stare into them. Ollie bites his lip.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” he mumbles, looking away bashfully. Schneider shrugs.

“I don’t mind. If you do, though, then… Nevermind, I suppose.”

Ollie meets his gaze again and says quietly, “I don’t mind. I always want to kiss you.”

The grin that spreads across Schneider’s face is dazzling. Ollie is swept away by it. He smiles a little himself. Schneider nods. He reaches up to slide his fingers into his hair, palm cupping his cheek, thumb on his jaw again. Ollie swallows hard. Schneider speaks quietly, saying with lidded eyes, “Well, good. Because I feel the same for you.”

Ollie doesn’t even have time to process that before Schneider is leaning in to kiss him again—so gently and lovingly, Ollie’s heart seizes. He closes his eyes, shifts closer while placing his hand on Schneider’s bicep. The hand on his face is warm, the thumb along his jaw stroking. It’s so much, almost too much. Their lips purse together in a tender back and forth. It’s so intimate, Ollie feels like he’ll melt.

He can only withstand it for so long. He kisses Schneider with a reddening face and a pounding heart. Schneider’s lips are so soft and passionate against his own. Only when Schneider pauses to take a breath does Ollie pull away, looking at him with meek eyes and a faint smile. Schneider searches his face, gently smiling himself.

The same night, Schneider is gone. He’s doing a show with Feeling B. Ollie passes the time by playing on his bass, reading while curled up on the living room couch, throwing a ball against the wall above his bed, and working out. Eventually, he feels claustrophobic, so he leaves and goes on a walk through the nearby park. The fresh air and evening sky is refreshing, but eventually, he finds himself in their flat once more. Eventually, he decides to put on a movie.

Deep in the pits of his mind, he knows he’s just procrastinating from sleeping. He wants to wait for Schneider. But as he lays slumped in his bed, staring idly at the small box TV propped on his dresser, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie, he knows he won’t win this. It’s nearing one in the morning, and his eyelids seem to get heavier… And heavier…

After fighting it for another half hour, he admits defeat. He lethargically gets up to turn off the TV, lazily brush his teeth, and take a piss before splatting back into bed. He bundles up under his thick covers and melts into his mattress.

At an indiscernible time later, he’s awoken by the slow opening of his door. Blearily, he opens his heavy, bloodshot eyes and peeks out from his covers to see Schneider quietly slipping inside, shutting the door behind himself. Ollie shifts, moving to sit up, but then Schneider hurries over to the bed, takes a seat on the edge, and reaches out to press a hand to Ollie’s shoulder through the covers. Ollie can’t see him well in the darkness; his eyes haven’t adjusted yet. Schneider squeezes his bicep and says softly, “It’s fine. Just lie down.”

Ollie is happy to oblige. He sinks back into the pillows, looks up at him sleepily. The moonlight peering in through the window illuminates Schneider’s features and burst of hair so very faintly, Ollie can’t even see his eyes. Just the sharp angle of his nose, the curls of hair.

“Give me some room,” Schneider whispers. Ollie licks his lips. He nods. Stomach filling with butterflies, Ollie scoots over until his back meets the wall. He holds up the covers, uncertain what he intends, but inviting him, nonetheless. Schneider takes a second to strip off his hoodie and the shirt underneath, exposing his fit torso, broad and beautiful. He’s definitely put on weight lately, and it’s lovely. Ollie smiles in the secrecy of the darkness. Schneider slips under the covers then, scooting close to the other man. Ollie sucks in a breath.

“Nice and toasty under here,” Schneider says, followed by a little, tired laugh. Ollie says nothing. He just gazes at him; this close, and with his eyes now adjusted, he can see his heavy eyes, his faint smile. He looks like he’s about to pass out. Ollie, finding a streak of confidence in himself, leans in and kisses him gently, longingly against the forehead. Schneider hums lowly, pleased. Ollie lets out a shuddering breath when a muscular arm finds its way around his waist, pulling him closer. Ollie brings his arm around Schneider in return and scoots closer, angling his head so he can kiss over Schneider’s sharp cheekbone and right under his ear, his nose ending up in his curls.

“I missed you,” Schneider whispers, and then snorts in that adorable way he does. He speaks in a low murmur, clutching at Ollie’s hoodie, “I hope that isn’t too soon.”

“No, no,” Ollie says softly, voice thick with sleep, his heart swelling, “I missed you, too.”

Schneider squeezes him in his arms. It’s his turn to kiss over Ollie’s cheek, his lips soft and loving against his hot skin. He nuzzles into Ollie’s hair before whispering, “Go back to sleep.”

As much he would like to fall asleep in Schneider’s arms, he knows he’ll have to shift, and it’ll become much too hot. He bites his lip, soaking in the embrace for a moment longer, before he says quietly, “I can’t sleep like this…”

“Then get comfortable.”

Ollie strokes his broad hand over Schneider’s side, silently enjoying the feeling of his skin under his touch, before he moves to do so; Schneider scoots back to give him room. Ollie flops down on his belly, resting his cheek against the pillow, facing Schneider. Schneider is looking down at him with a fond smile. He leans in to gingerly, slowly press his lips to his forehead. Ollie closes his eyes, blushing, his chest filling with such warmth. He cracks his eyes open to see Schneider moving to get comfortable. He rests on his side, facing the other man, and slides his arm underneath Ollie’s plethora of pillows. He flops his head down onto the pillows, hair billowing around his face, and lets out a deep exhale. He closes his eyes, and Ollie gets to witness him totally relaxing. Releasing the stress and weight built over the night. He seems to lose all tension in his body. He begins to breathe slowly and deeply. Ollie wants to kiss him so badly, but he won’t disrupt his blissful rest for the sake of it.

* * *

In the morning, Ollie wakes up first. He blearily blinks, and then looks over to his left. Schneider is resting on his front, cheek to the pillow, facing him. His eyes are closed, mouth lax, hair shrouding his features. He’s beautiful. It takes a moment for Ollie to realize Schneider’s big hand is resting on his belly under his hoodie. He lays there in shock for a moment. Then his body catches up.

His hand is so close to the waistband of his boxers. He could slip his fingers down so easily, to touch him…

Ollie gets hard painfully fast. He frowns to himself, flustered. He moves to sit up. Schneider makes a noise, and then lethargically tightens his arm around Ollie. Ollie flops back down, huffing a laugh. Schneider wiggles closer and nuzzles into Ollie’s shoulder.

“I didn’t think you were awake,” Ollie whispers, gazing down at him. Schneider’s eyes remain closed.

“M’not,” he mumbles. Ollie chuckles. Schneider keeps his arm locked around him, refusing to let him go. Ollie relaxes back into the bed.

“I have to piss,” he says, desperate to get away and hide his erection. Schneider sighs. He reluctantly, slowly lets him go. Ollie slips out of bed. He hurries out of the bedroom, and into the bathroom. He really does have to piss. That wasn’t a lie. It’s weird trying to urinate with an erection, though. Maybe he’ll just wait for it to pass.

He just splashes his face with cold water and thinks of the time he got food poisoning a couple years ago. The awful mess he had to clean up from the bathroom floor.

That makes his erection fade away easily. He then steps in front of the toilet and relieves himself. Just as he’s done tucking himself away, the bathroom door opens. He looks over to see Schneider stepping in, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand. He gives Ollie a sleepy smile.

“Let’s shower together,” he says. Ollie finds himself unable to protest, nor does he care to.

Watching Schneider undress this time is sobering more than it is exciting. It’s more natural, more… Easy. Schneider’s long, muscular legs. His slim hips. The very slight pouch to his belly. The broadness of his back, the thickness of his drummer arms. His sharp jawline, his kissable lips, his drowsy eyes. He’s so gorgeous.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” Ollie says quietly, having already removed his hoodie, clutching it in his broad hands. He watches Schneider with subtle affection in his eyes. Schneider looks at him with surprise. Then he grins.

“Beautiful? What about handsome?”

Ollie scoffs. He rolls his eyes. With a pressed smile, he steps up to the other man, dropping his hoodie. He reaches out to grip Schneider’s muscular bicep, leans in to kiss him on the cheek, before murmuring, “A man can be beautiful. You are beautiful to me.”

Schneider doesn’t say anything. He turns to Ollie, brings his arms around him—Ollie didn’t expect that. But he happily reciprocates; he embraces Schneider in return, resting his cheek against his shoulder. Schneider squeezes him in his arms and then his hands slink down. Ollie silently lets him ease down his boxers, bashful. Ollie pulls away just enough to look down, watching himself step out of them when Schneider lets them fall.

“If I’m beautiful,” he murmurs, stroking his calloused hands up from Ollie’s hips to his sides, evoking an involuntary shudder from the younger man, and a glance from bashful eyes. Schneider smiles faintly, searching his face, “Then you are perfection.”

Ollie blushes and shakes his head.

“You’re being a romantic. Just get in the shower already.”

Schneider laughs, a grin spreading over his youthful face.

“What? Am I not allowed to say the same of you?”

“No.”

Ollie is on fire now. Schneider reaches up to ruffle his hair, saying, “Alright, I’ll spare you. Let’s get in.”

And so they do. After Schneider turns on the water and lets it run until its hot, they both step in. This time, it’s not quite so daunting. Ollie freely watches Schneider wash himself. He briefly flicks his eyes down to admire his handsome thighs, his soft length shrouded by curls of hair—attractively so. Ollie hungers for him. He eventually distracts himself with cleaning his body.

Schneider insists on washing Ollie’s hair for him. He grabs him by the shoulders, spins him around, and then steals Ollie’s shampoo to squeeze a glob into his palm. After working it into a slight lather in his hands, he then rubs it into Ollie’s soaked hair. Ollie’s eyes roll shut, lulled by the comforting feeling of those broad hands rubbing over his scalp. Halfway through, Ollie is entirely hard again. He can’t help but imagine those hands stroking elsewhere. Massaging his back, his legs, gripping his cock, slipping between his asscheeks.

There’s no way Schneider hasn’t noticed. Ollie is flustered, but he doesn’t feel as ashamed now. Schneider should know that it would rile him up, right? Gazing down at himself with lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, Ollie sees his soft pink cock standing tall, arching up towards his belly. He actually wants Schneider to notice this time. Maybe he’ll do something. Ollie so dearly wants him to.

Suddenly the hands leave his hair and curl gently around his shoulders again, pulling him back into the stream of the water. It rushes through his locks, rinsing the shampoo out. Ollie stands there with closed eyes, relaxed hands, a body free of tension. Once thoroughly cleaned, Schneider gently eases him forward out of the shower water, before applying the conditioner. He’s generous with it, covering every bit of his hair to leave it silky once they get out. Ollie feels utterly soothed. And aroused.

“Schneider,” he murmurs as said man continues running his fingers through his lengthy locks. Schneider hums lowly, prompting him to continue. Ollie licks his lips and speaks softly, asking, “When would it be considered ‘too soon’?”

Schneider thinks about it for a moment, not even faltering in his ministrations of raking his fingers through his hair, occasionally running his nails down across his scalp in a gesture that sends pleasant jolts through Ollie’s nerves. He speaks calmly, saying, “It would never be considered too soon. Not for me.”

“Not for me, either,” Ollie says, eyes lazily fixed on his feet, “You don’t need to worry about boundaries.”

A smile is in Schneider’s voice when he replies softly, “Alright.”

And then the hands in his hair slip out. Ollie takes a step back to submerge himself in the water, but his back meets Schneider’s chest. He feels his pubic hair against his ass. Ollie’s eyes widen. He anticipated he would move so Ollie could rinse his hair out. Ollie’s stomach flips when those broad hands cup around his hips. He feels Schneider’s dripping hair tickle the back of his neck when he leans in to press his lips to his ear.

“That’s good, because I’ve wanted to touch you ever since we got in,” he murmurs, his voice as deep and rough as an earthquake. Ollie shudders. He strokes his hands over Schneider’s wrists and nods. Schneider catches the shell of his ear between his teeth as one hand strokes inwards, fingers roaming across Ollie’s belly hair, then his pubic hair, to grip his aching cock. Ollie lets out a shaky breath. The hot water rushes down over his head and body, submerging him in another layer of heat.

He then registers Schneider’s stiff cock poking into his lower back. Ollie can’t repress the ‘oh, God’ that comes out of his mouth, crawling from his tongue like a plea. Schneider shifts closer, purposefully lets his cock ride higher up against Ollie’s back, while he begins loosely stroking at him. Ollie squeezes Schneider’s wrists and moans softly.

“Bed,” Ollie gasps, “I can’t do this standing.”

He stares, wide-eyed, at Schneider’s big hand wrapped around his flushed cock, pulling at it gently, his wrist moving with a careful twist, fingers roaming and tightening with every stroke. Schneider noses behind his ear and then lets him go.

Then Schneider detaches himself. He turns off the water, earning a glance from Ollie. His eyes flick down. Schneider’s cock, when fully erect, is as impressive and beautiful as the man himself. Then those piercing blue eyes, suffocated by lust and intent, fix on him. A hand grabs his bicep.

“Come on,” he says, lowly with impatience, and then pulls Ollie out of the shower. Ollie is led out of the bathroom before he can even consider grabbing a towel. Schneider guides him right into his bedroom, without the patience or gentleness Ollie anticipated. But this is just as good, if not better. Schneider is commanding, stubborn, and strong-willed. He should have expected something more straightforward. This man knows what he wants. And he wants Ollie.

Ollie lets himself be pushed down onto the bed. Schneider pins him down to the bed with his big hands flattened over Ollie’s hips. Ollie is already panting, looking at the older man with wide eyes. They’re dripping with water, their curls clinging to their faces and necks. They’re soaking the covers and sheets of Schneider’s bed, but neither care. Schneider leans in to kiss worshipfully over Ollie’s heaving belly and his midsection. His lips are so soft against his skin. His curls are cold when they drag over his skin.

“I’ve wanted to have you under me like this for so long,” Schneider growls, hands slowly descending across his lean thighs, to gently spread them. Ollie willingly opens his thighs. Schneider peeks up at him past his dripping bangs—his beautiful blue eyes are fiery. Ollie is speechless. He flicks his tongue between his lips and whispers, “You will never know how often I fantasized about this exact moment.”

A faint, pleased smile crosses Schneider’s face.

“I guess you’ll just have to tell me about your fantasies after we’re done here.”

Ollie takes in a shuddering breath. He nods a little. Schneider then ducks his head. He kisses over Ollie’s belly again, nosing at his happy trail. Ollie is still a bit shy, but he’s not inexperienced, nor is he going to let his bashfulness control him. He reaches out to rake Schneider’s bangs back, affectionately stroking his hand over his head. Schneider peeks up at him with a sly smile. Then he brings one hand in from Ollie’s thigh to angle his cock up. He curls his body closer to Ollie as he lowers his head to suck it into his mouth. Ollie catches his bottom lip between his teeth, watching with hooded eyes and red cheeks.

Schneider is confident as he gently nurses at him, his cheeks hollowing. His curls shroud his face as he begins going down on him. He takes more of him into his mouth. The wet heat of it covers Ollie in a blanket of pleasure. He’s utterly relaxed and wound up with tension simultaneously. He drops his hand from Schneider’s head to reach down and take his hand instead. It’s a cheesy gesture, but Schneider reciprocates it. He threads their fingers together, his other hand busy keeping Ollie’s cock in place as he begins bobbing his head.

A moan melts from Ollie’s lips, his head dropping back into the pillows.

By the time Ollie is a shuddering, gasping mess, Schneider has his hands elsewhere. One is nestled between his clenched thighs, a broad thumb stroking from underneath his balls, down to press to his asshole. A firm push of his thumb, a slow release of the pressure, another push while he continues mouthing over Ollie’s leaking cock, teasingly licking at the tip, sucking half of it into his mouth in one go, before withdrawing to tongue at the slit again. The tip of his tongue dances across the concentration of nerves at the frenulum, before sliding up over the swell of the head. Ollie’s thighs clench up from the sharp sensation of pleasure. Schneider’s other hand is up to Ollie’s chest, squeezing his pec in his fingers so tightly it borders on painful. Ollie is unable to focus on one sensation. He’s drowning in the ocean of stimulation, incapable of surfacing. He’s pulling at the soaked covers, toes clenched, boyish face in a pleasured grimace.

“Please, Schneider,” Ollie finally breathes out, unable to withstand it anymore, “I—I want you to fuck me.”

Schneider hums around his cock and begins rubbing his thumb in a circular motion against his asshole—the awakened nerves tingle like fireworks at the sensation. Ollie shivers and gasps. Schneider then withdraws, letting his deeply flushed cock slip from his lips. He crawls over Ollie, lays atop him so easily, their limbs tangling together, his face nudging into Ollie’s, lips and nose ghosting across his cheek.

Ollie wraps his arms around him, clutches at him with hunger, turns his face into Schneider’s, until their lips meet. Then they kiss with ferocity. Schneider’s hands are propped on either side of him, raising himself enough to give himself leverage to begin rubbing his stiff cock against Ollie’s thigh. Ollie groans, tips his head back against the pillows, breaking the shortly lived kiss.

“Schneider,” he breathes, lifting his head to look at him dazedly. Schneider grins coyly and leans in to crush their mouths together again. He continues grinding his shaft into Ollie’s thigh, a slow back and forth that runs his overheated cock against his skin. Ollie whimpers against his lips, brow furrowed. The sensation is so startingly arousing.

Schneider’s kiss is like heaven. Their lips overlap together, joined in a heated dance that feels like no other kiss Ollie has ever experienced. The truly contented feeling that swells inside of him is newfound. He typically doesn’t care for kissing because of how brutally intimate it is. But with Schneider, it’s like an embrace beyond just their bodies, a shared warmth and passion that Ollie drinks greedily, breathes in heavily. He continues clutching at the other man, hands mapping across a broad back that shifts under his touch as Schneider continues rubbing against his thigh in a smooth roll of his hips.

“Please,” Ollie finds himself slurring mid-kiss, his lips moving as he spoke against Schneider’s lips and chin, “Please tell me you have lube.”

Schneider pulls back just enough to separate their lips. His curls stroke against Ollie’s cheeks as he nods, and then rests their foreheads together. He stops moving against Ollie, just rests his weight atop him. Ollie gazes at him with tender eyes, enjoying the close proximity of him, the weight of him. Schneider then gives him a parting kiss—a firm, almost too firm press of his lips to Ollie’s—before he moves up off of him, and off the bed. Ollie watches him, lethargically propping up on his elbows.

“Let’s move to your bed,” Schneider says then, surprising him, scraping his wet locks from his face, “I want to fuck you on a bed that isn’t uncomfortably soaked.”

Ollie pauses, and then exhales a slight laugh.

“And who’s fault is that, Schneider?”

They end up on Ollie’s bed. Schneider had first snatched his lube from his nightstand drawer before ushering the younger man out of his bedroom, and into his own. He pushes Ollie down onto the plush, haphazard covers, crawls over him, setting the lube aside momentarily. Ollie looks up at him with wide, eager eyes, his hands raising, hovering, uncertain where to settle.

“I want you to lay on your stomach,” Schneider murmurs, gazing down at him with fiery eyes, “I want to try something. You can tell me to stop if you don’t like it.”

Ollie swallows hard. He nods. He trusts Schneider. Schneider moves off of him for Ollie to oblige; he flips over onto his belly and props up on his elbows, peeks back at him with a faint blush. His long locks are still wet with water, clinging to his cheeks and jaw—he reaches up to scrape them back while he watches Schneider shift further back on the bed.

He reaches out to grip his asscheeks in both broad hands. Ollie bites his lip. He watches Schneider’s face, while Schneider stares at his ass. He brings one hand down to nudge Ollie’s legs further apart. A little flustered, Ollie shyly slides them open, feeling more exposed. Schneider smiles faintly and then says, “Actually, maybe get on your knees.”

Ollie silently obeys. He slides his legs up to tuck his knees under himself, raising his lower half. He watches as Schneider shifts closer behind him—Ollie has no idea what he plans to do, and he’s a little nervous, but excited. He’s excited for everything with this man.

Schneider’s hands find his ass again. And then he spreads him open. Ollie hangs his head, heat bursting in his face. He hides in his elbow. Schneider leans in, the bed shifting and dipping with the weight. Ollie jerks his head up and looks over when he feels Schneider’s exhale against his ass. Icy blue eyes meet his as Schneider ghosts his tongue up across his perineum and then his asshole. Ollie lurches forward, sucking in a breath. Sitting back, Schneider laughs lightly, hands gripping his hips tightly.

“Relax. It’ll feel good. Unless you don’t want to…?”

A hopeful look is in Schneider’s eyes. Speechless, Ollie is momentarily stunned. He flicks his tongue between his lips. He nods and rests back on his heels again. Schneider smiles faintly. Ollie is more willing, knowing they just got out of the shower. He watches, bashfully, as the other man leans back in. His wet curls tickle against Ollie’s skin.

The hot drift of his tongue is thick and long, up over his perineum and hole. Ollie lets out the tiniest grunt, hiding his face in his elbow again. Schneider shifts closer, grips one asscheek with a big hand, keeping him spread that way while one hand slips in-between his thighs to grip his cock in a fist. Ollie groans. Schneider begins lightly roaming his fingers over the head of his cock while teasingly drifting his tongue up to his tailbone, down to his balls. Such a faint touch, like a whisper. It sends sparks up Ollie’s back, down to his toes, to settle in his gut. He pants into his arm, brow furrowed. He’s never done this before. Fingered? Yeah. Fucked? Yes, even if it was rushed and unsatisfactory. But this is different.

Then Schneider focuses the point of his tongue against the tight skin of his asshole. He pushes, retracts, pushes, retracts, harder and firmer every succeeding time. Ollie is gasping now, grasping fistfuls of the covers, mouth fallen open. Schneider’s hair continues brushing against him, his exhales hard and heated from his nose, ghosting against him. The hand on his cock continues lazily teasing him; stroking at the length of him in a loose grip, letting his fingers slide across the head, fingertips teasing at the frenulum, until Ollie is dripping from the tip. Schneider’s tongue is eager, no longer withstanding urges for the sake of technique. Now, he’s _pushing,_ licking over Ollie’s hole persistently, his breathing harder now, his own voice heard through quiet noises of arousal and enjoyment.

It’s such a filthy thing. Ollie never imagined Schneider would get off from eating ass.

Ollie feels his body relaxing. The sensation is hot and electric, but it relaxes the natural tension of him, until Schneider actually pushes his tongue into him and evokes a sharp gasp from Ollie. From there, Schneider begins repeatedly sliding his tongue in and out of him, until Ollie is moaning and pushing back into it. Schneider’s hand is now gripping his cock in a firm hold, without moving, as he essentially tongue-fucks him.

The pleasure is warm and has him shuddering. Schneider only stops when his jaw aches. Then he sits back, earning a weary glance from the younger man. Schneider is red-faced, panting, his eyes hungry. He brings his hand in to press his thumb to his asshole, his fingers fanning out over his lower back. He pushes his thumb into him. Ollie grunts and hangs his head. Schneider begins stroking at his dripping cock as he repeatedly slides his thumb into his ass. Ollie is unable to handle it anymore.

“Schneider,” he whispers, hiding his red face in his arm again, “Move on already.”

Schneider hums.

“You’re not enjoying this?”

Ollie’s cock is currently rock hard in Schneider’s grasp, dripping lines of pre-cum as this goes on.

“Well, considering you’re currently holding my hard dick, I’m sure you can figure it out,” he mumbles. Schneider laughs. He then pushes his thumb in, deeply, all the way to the last knuckle. Ollie grunts and lets out a breathless gasp. Schneider moves it back and forth, slowly, while he muses, “Get me the lube then.”

Ollie can barely focus enough to lift his head. He weakly looks over towards the lube, laying within reach. Schneider withdraws his thumb then, letting Ollie clear his head. He reaches out to grab the lube. Surprising him, Schneider leans in to lick into him again. Ollie groans and presses his head to the sheets, hand sliding back over the covers. Schneider’s big hands clutch at his hips, holding him still as he drags his tongue across his sensitive hole, flat and wet, before pushing it back inside him. Ollie is a shuddering, panting mess already. Borderline incoherent, he can hardly put together a train of thought.

“Schneider,” he gasps, sliding his knees further apart, welcoming it now. Schneider groans and Ollie can _feel_ it. Abruptly, Schneider leans back, panting, and strokes at his hole with his thumb again. Then he gently takes the lube from Ollie’s hand. Ollie distantly hears the pop of the cap, followed by the closing of it. Schneider sets it aside, and strokes one hand up over the slope of Ollie’s spine. Ollie shudders, eyes closed, mouth open as he breathes deeply, cheeks hot.

“I want you so badly,” Schneider murmurs from behind him, that broad hand roaming across Ollie’s side and lower back, “And now I have you.”

Ollie anticipated quiet sex with Schneider. Schneider isn’t exactly the chatty type. Distant and cool, almost cold. Sometimes, there is a side of him that comes out—mostly when he’s drunk, or when he’s in a _very_ good mood. Apparently, it emerges when he’s having sex, as well.

“Have you ever done this before?” Schneider asks quietly, and then Ollie feels slick, warm fingertips stroke over his already wet hole. Ollie grunts.

“Ah… Yeah. If you mean getting fucked, yeah. I have.”

Schneider is silent behind him. Ollie feels those broad, rough fingertips idly stroking up and down against the sensitive skin of his asshole and it has sparks going up his spine. Ollie almost wants to see him while he does this, but this position makes it easier. Ollie isn’t as overwhelmed when he can hide his face.

“Turn over,” Schneider murmurs. Ollie pauses. He nearly laughs. Schneider must have had the same thought. He bites his lip as he obliges. He silently moves to turn over. He brings his leg around Schneider to avoid kicking him, considering he is sitting rather close. Schneider smiles faintly, reaches out to stroke his dry hand up over his inner thigh. Ollie sinks back into the pillows, letting out a deep exhale. He looks up at him bashfully past his fringe.

“You are so cute,” Schneider laughs, reaching out to stroke his thumb along Ollie’s strong jaw, to cup his face. Ollie frowns.

“That’s not embarrassing to hear, from you.”

“Oh, come on. It’s true. Plus, I already called you perfect earlier. That covers all bases.”

“Oh, I see. Now that you say that, why not?”

Dry sarcasm drips from Ollie’s voice.

Schneider grins and pinches his earlobe between his thumb and forefinger, teasingly saying, “I can call you whatever I want. We’ve crossed that line, Ollie. Now I’m privileged with the power to embarrass you.”

Ollie huffs, blushing heavily, gazing up at him with petulant eyes.

“Fine.”

“See. Cute.”

Ollie turns his head away, breaking the hold on his ear. Schneider laughs. He leans in to kiss Ollie on the forehead, nose in his damp bangs, and then brings his wet fingers in-between his asscheeks again. Ollie sags back into the pillows, eyes becoming lidded and weak. Schneider pulls back if only to watch his face for any discomfort as he begins easing his index finger inside of him. It feels strange more than anything, but the fact it’s _Schneider_ makes it infinitely more enjoyable than the last time.

Schneider’s other touch ventures over Ollie’s toned belly, to squeezes his pec and then pinch his nipple between his thumb and curled forefinger. He pulls gently with a teasing smirk toying at his lips as he idly moves that finger back and forth inside of him. Ollie tenses up all over, brow knitting. Schneider stops teasing him; he releases his nipple to instead run the width of his palm down over Ollie’s hard cock, fingers trailing over his shaft, before they slowly curl around the base. He pulls gently at him, watching his boyish face closely.

The way Ollie sags back into the pillows is telling enough. Schneider shifts closer, leans in to gently kiss over his chest and midsection, lips soft and loving against his skin, moving softly across him. Meanwhile, he brings another slick finger up to tease in alongside the first. As Schneider begins to scissor them, deeply pushing them into Ollie, Ollie moans. Encouraged by the sound, Schneider lifts his head to watch again.

He studies the way Ollie’s face falls lax as he begins curling his fingers and purposefully pushing up towards his prostate. His head falls back, his drying hair splaying haphazardly. He groans and Schneider _feels_ him clench around his fingers. Meanwhile, he continues idly stroking at his hard dick, not quite pleasuring him, simply giving him another form of stimulation. Ollie then lifts his head, dazedly looks at the other man, and says thickly, “Hurry up.”

Schneider pauses, and then huffs a laugh.

“Impatient,” he murmurs, but obliges. He had been generous with the lube; it makes it easier to tease a third. Ollie’s face tightens slightly with strain when he begins pushing it in. Schneider makes sure to go slow. He decides to distract him by leaning in and mouthing sloppily at the dripping head of his cock, his curls slipping down to tickle his inner thighs. Ollie gasps his name.

Ollie watches, mouth agape, as Schneider sucks it into his mouth. That takes his mind from the strange, borderline painful feeling, though it has his body clenching with pleasure all the same. Either way, Schneider powers through fingering him thoroughly, pumping his three fingers into his ass while sucking at his cock. Ollie groans aloud and brings a hand up from the covers to grab onto Schneider’s bicep, squeezing in an unspoken plea. Satisfied, Schneider withdraws his fingers, mouthing over Ollie’s flushed cock, from the hot head to the underside of his shaft, before lifting himself and crawling over the other man.

Looking up at him with a dazed face, Ollie brings his hands up to stroke them across Schneider’s sides, hungry for his warmth. Schneider gazes down at him fondly, his long curls shrouding his sharp-featured face. Ollie makes a slight noise, almost a pleading whimper. Schneider grins slyly. He leans in, head angling, and then they crush their lips together. Ollie winds a muscular, slender arm around Schneider’s bare back, hand sliding across his shoulder blades. He pulls him closer, their naked bodies aligning perfectly, intimately, flush together. Schneider’s stiff cock is pressing to his own, trapped between their thighs. Ollie groans.

“You are so amazing,” Schneider laughs softly, lips moving against his chin, his eyes closed, “I want to say and do everything.”

“We have time,” Ollie whispers, stroking his hand up over his neck, ruffling his long locks. Schneider says nothing; he nuzzles into Ollie’s face with his own, a smile curling at his lips. Then he pecks Ollie chastely, a loving, painfully tender kiss that lights up Ollie’s entire being. Schneider sits back, curls muscular arms around Ollie’s long, lean thighs, tugs him closer. Ollie’s eyes fly open, his belly swimming with arousal from the manhandling.

“Can you reach the lube?” Schneider asks, voice rough and gravelly with apparent lust, his sapphire eyes fiery, trained down on his lover. Ollie swallows hard. He turns his head to look back; he sees it resting up by the pillows. He reaches out to snatch the tube and passes it to Schneider. Schneider takes it, squeezes more out onto his fingers, then passes it back. While Ollie recloses it and places it aside, Schneider slicks up his cock, sighing at the feeling. Ollie stares, excitement and anticipation swirling inside him like a building fire. Soon, Schneider is going to be inside him. Schneider is going to fuck him. Ollie is going to love this.

He lets Schneider do whatever he wants. Schneider hikes Ollie’s legs further up while he scoots closer, letting his legs fall into the crevice of his elbows. Then he reaches down, grips his cock, and sweeps the slick head up between his asscheeks to rub it over his hole. Ollie moans at the feeling, his eyes wide. Schneider watches his face as he begins to slowly push in.

The natural tightness of his body fights at first, the muscle tense in its attempt to keep this intrusion out, until the efforts of Schneider become apparent; his body opens up, letting him slide in entirely in one smooth push. Ollie gasps sharply, hands flying out to grab onto Schneider’s thighs. Schneider readjusts their position, shifts closer on his knees, pulls Ollie so he’s further on his back. Ollie is staring down at the sight of Schneider between his legs, his pelvis flush to his ass. This is a visual he never thought he would witness. It’s overwhelming and _fucking hot_. He looks up towards Schneider. Schneider is gazing down at him with an undeniable want in his expression, though it’s joined by a certain softness, one Ollie can’t name until the other man is leaning in to kiss him again.

The kiss is brief, but loving. When Schneider pulls back, he cups his big hands around Ollie’s knees, leans back to watch himself begin to slowly pull out, and ease back in. Ollie grunts under his breath, continuing to clutch at Schneider’s thighs, thumbs pressing firmly into the warm skin. He watches the other man move. He moves gracefully, with control, with patience. His hands are tight around his knees, holding his legs open. He’s so perfect. Ollie is so enamored, lovestruck, watching him.

Then Schneider begins to move with purpose once Ollie’s body becomes accustomed. He rocks his hips with more force, driving into him harder and deeper than before. Ollie can’t hold back; he squeezes his eyes shut, groans louder now, legs clenching around Schneider’s hands, toes curled. Schneider then pauses, adjusts Ollie’s legs. Surprising the younger man, he grips his ankles, brings his legs up to hook the heels of his feet over his shoulders and then leans in over him, letting his weight overcome the other man. Ollie is easily flexible, so it’s no issue, nor is bearing Schneider’s weight. It’s a much more intimate position. Ollie bites his lip, strokes his hands up over Schneider’s biceps. Schneider leans in to kiss him on the bridge of his nose before he begins to move his hips again.

At first, he simple rolls them, grinding into Ollie, which has them both groaning. Schneider pants out another moan as he gyrates his hips against him, and it has tingles shooting up from Ollie’s toes to the base of his skull. It feels good. Schneider clutches at him, hides his face in his shoulder. He begins to rock his hips now, pumping against him. Ollie moans loudly—shocked, he realizes Schneider had purposefully chosen a position that made it easy to strike his prostate.

“Shit!” he gasps, digging his nails into Schneider’s shoulder blades, holding him close to himself. Schneider returns a groan of his own, and cannot seem to stop himself. The patience from before has faded; he begins to snap his hips down against him. Ollie moans and gasps and cries out, the shocks and sparks and jolts of pleasure ringing throughout his entire body.

“Oh, God, fuck me! Schneider, just like that,” Ollie groans, head tipping back, gripping so tightly at Schneider’s back, his nails dig into him, his knuckles whitening. He cannot believe what he’s hearing, coming from his own mouth. Schneider turns his face into Ollie’s neck, nosing at his damp locks as he continues rocking against him. Ollie jerks a hand down from Schneider’s back, finesses it in-between their bodies to begin awkwardly touching himself. It’s a bad angle, but he manages to grip himself well enough, manages to stroke at his dripping cock at a pace that makes it easy to hit the precipice, though maybe a little prematurely. He grunts lowly, scratching his nails down Schneider’s back. His eyes are screwed shut. He can’t believe how oversensitive he is. His entire body is tingling, on fire, on the verge of _too much_.

A raw gasp rips from his lungs. As he’s drowning in the feeling of his orgasm, Schneider rises from atop him, sitting back to gain better leverage. He pins Ollie’s knees to his chest, begins to pound into him with jarring snaps of his hips, evoking sharp gasps and ringing moans from the younger man. Ollie goes entirely tense, shaking, as his cum shoots out to sully his heaving chest and belly. Schneider is grunting and panting heavily, rocking against him, seemingly spurred on by his orgasm. Blearily, Ollie opens his watering eyes to watch Schneider’s handsome face twist with pleasure, his flushed body shaking.

Then suddenly he’s pulling out of Ollie, gripping himself, stroking himself while groaning and shuddering, until his cum flies out to join the mess on Ollie’s belly in hot ropes. Ollie stares, wide-eyed. Schneider ejaculating on him is now something he can check off the list, he supposes. He admires the sight of Schneider. The weak, pleasured expression on his face is beautiful.

Then they’re submerged in the aftermath: they both breathe heavily, skin decorated by sweat, flushed with exertion and dying arousal. Schneider leans in to kiss Ollie in a fleeting peck, which the other man dazedly returns, hand raising to cup the back of his head, and then Schneider collapses beside him. Ollie smiles to himself. He loves those kisses.

“Uh,” he begins after a moment, realizing his particular predicament, staring down at his sullied stomach, “I should probably get in the shower again.”

“I would say I’d join you, but the water won’t be warm,” Schneider mumbles into the pillow he’s nuzzled into. Ollie lifts a hand to weakly smack the back of it to his shoulder, earning a peek from a blue eye. Frowning, Ollie says, “You know I’ll be feeling it later tonight. You weren’t exactly gentle. So you are going to join me, you big baby.”

Schneider pauses, laughs, and then sticks his tongue out at him.

“Well, you seemed to certainly enjoy it,” he petulantly remarks, while sluggishly crawling out of bed. Ollie sticks his foot out, just in time to catch Schneider’s leg. Schneider stumbles off the bed and barely catches his footing before he could go tumbling into the dresser. He whirls around to look at Ollie with aghast. Ollie’s face is stone as he lifts a hand to flip him off. Schneider pauses, and then grins. He grabs Ollie by the wrist, startling him. Ollie expects an unkind rebuttal of some sort, but instead, Schneider leans in to kiss him on that particular finger. He grins, gazing down at the flustered, wide-eyed younger man and says mockingly, “Let’s go, you brat. You’re the one making me wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> babypaulchen.tumblr.com


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